


So It Goes

by charmanderchar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, acomaf, sorry its my first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9046796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmanderchar/pseuds/charmanderchar
Summary: A 50 sentences ACOMAF Ships Edition challenge that turned into something else entirely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> My supervisor told me to stop reading fanfiction at work, so I decided to make one instead. LOL. OK.  
> This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please let me know what you think. ^^
> 
> This one was supposed to be a 50 sentences challenge that turned into...something else entirely, featuring ACOMAF ships. 
> 
> I hope I can write more, especially Elucien stuff, I love them to bits.
> 
> And oh, Merry Christmas! :) 
> 
> :)
> 
> \----------------------

**Gravitation**

Azriel has been running away. Or _trying_ to, for the last five centuries. Whenever he thought he'd gotten far enough, high enough, cold enough--- all it would take was a memory of her golden hair, or the mirth in her voice or the warmth of her eyes and he'd come crashing back down.

Pulled towards her, all the same.

 

**Blame**

Sometimes Feyre wondered: if it hadn't been snowing so bad that day, if she didn't have an ash arrow in her quiver and she hadn't killed Andras, would she still have met Rhys? If she hadn't been set to destroy herself for Tamlin, would she still find the love of her mate, her new family?

 

**Proof**

It was screaming at his face, made the bile rise in his throat. No, it wasn't possible, it _shouldn't_ \--

There was such ringing in Tamlin's ears as their mingled scent shoved up his nostrils. What had Rhysand done to his Feyre?

 

**Assistance**

Elain could still feel his strong arms as they held her--- she was cold and shivering--- terrified to have been Made anew. The floor was a cold kiss against her skin--- there was water, black water everywhere and there was someone screaming---

But she felt his arms around her. She could still smell the scent of autumn on his jacket as it enveloped her. Eyes of gold and russet. Long, fiery hair.

Mate, he'd called her. _You're my mate_. She didn't even know his name.

 

**Going**

"Soon, Feyre darling, I promise," said Rhys, pressing a kiss upon her brow.

  
She woke up with a gasp, and tears were running down her cheeks.

 

**Silent**

Mor was afraid of the silence, once. It reminded her of a still forest just outside the autumn court, of darkness that was so unlike her cousin's. But Azriel is teaching her that sometimes the silence can be a refuge too.

 

**Birthday**

"Happy 525th, prick," said Feyre with wicked delight, swiping some icing onto Rhys' nose.

 

**Rumor(ed)**

Some said she was a firedrake, some said she was a creature not borne of this world. Sometimes Amren forgot what she was, too. But she looks at her friends, her mismatched family--- and she _remembers_. 

 

**Scientist**

"No, you stupid prick," Nesta drawled, "Your wingspan doesn't have anything to do with other parts. It just doesn't make sense."

Cassian grinned.

"Shall we take out the measuring stick and find out for ourselves, then?"

 

**Behalf**

Not consort, not wife. Feyre was his equal in every way. He didn't dare think about what Tamlin had done to his queen during the time she spent in the wretched Spring court.

 

**Tip**

"No," Cass protested, wings twitching,  "Measure it again---  from tip to tip. "

"I already did," said Nesta,  "Azriel's wings are bigger."

 

**Idle**

  
Sometimes, Rhys would look up from his desk and find Feyre painting or reading or  taking a nap. A certain slant of light would hit the planes of her face and the fact of that she is his mate would knock the breath out of him. To see those slender hands holding a brush again,  to have these little moments of peace was perhaps the greatest joy he's had in all his centuries.

 

**Brothers**

"I won't let them take me away from you,Lucien," Elain said one night, quiet fury lacing her voice. "They might be your brothers, but where we come from, we call creatures like those monsters," she said, "And I won't let them take you away from me."

 

**Redecorate**

Something crashed to the floor.

"Shit," Nesta gasped, breathless, cheeks flushed. Her breath came in small pants and her hands were tangled in  Cassian's hair, "I think we broke Feyre's vase."

  
Cassian replied with a hungry grin and kissed a spot beneath her ear.

"Too bad," Cassian's deep chuckle vibrated through her bones. Nesta squirmed. "She'll just have to redecorate. "

   
**Kilt**

"Oh, that just looks gorgeous on you, Amren!"  
 

**Afterthought**

The thought would creep up on him. Some days, quietly. Other days it would feel like a crushing blow to the chest. But it was always the same realization: Lucien didnt know how he mananged these centuries without her.

 

**Unearth**

"How many lives have you lived before me, Rhys?"

  
"Too many to count, Feyre darling. But this life with you is the only one that counts."

 

**Beneath**

She brushed his fiery hair away from his face. Beneath his snark and his scars, Lucien--- the Lucien she knows and loves hid. She trailed her fingertips across the planes of his face. "You're beautiful," said Elain.

 

**Shield**

  
"I've failed you, Nesta," he finally says one night, his chest and throat in tight knots.

The fire in Nesta's eyes blinked out. The fight in her was gone, even as she tried to summon the anger that has become her crutch.

"Stop saying that," she says through gritted teeth, "Stop blaming yourself, Cassian."

 

**Blacklist**

"Will you truly wipe Adriata off the map, Amren? "  
"Depends on my mood."

 

**Misquoted**

  
"I swear I heard Azriel say he loved your hair, Mor."  
"Dont be ridiculous Feyre. I said I love...the air. I love the air. "

 

**Copying**

  
"What do you think you're doing?" Elain laughed, high and tinkling. Lucien flushed.

  
"I was trying to put my hair in a braid," he said w all the dignity he could muster, "But i couldn't make it the way you do."

  
Elain was doing her best to suppress a fit of giggles.

"Here," she said, her hands already in his hair, "Let me. "

 

**Argue/Arguing**

"I don't even remember what we're fighting about, Nesta!"  
"I don't either but you're being such an insufferable bastard about it!"

 

**Lens**

Everything was blurry, like looking through fogged up glass. But Rhys could remember the delicate hand that held a brush and painted... Flowers on a table. Somewhere... There was a girl safe enough to paint flowers on to a table. Something like hope flickered in his chest.

  

**Arrest(ed)**

"Feyre Archeron!"

She jumped, dropping the chocolate tart. _Caught red handed._

"You have been found guilty of hiding, eating and withholding from your mate the last piece of tart."

She still hadn't turned around to face Rhys, but she can feel the shit-eating grin on his face.

"I'm afraid I'll have to arrest and punish you for this crime."

She turned to him then, and looked at him beneath her lashes. "Guilty as charged, High Lord," she said, feigning meekness. The glint in Rhys' eyes almost undid her.

 

**Havoc**

No, not _this_ way.

The gold and bronze of her hair, her scent, her eyes--- they burned at the back of his eyelids and razed everything in its path. Lucien knew he shouldn't want this. If knowledge of his--cauldron--his _mate_ spread throughout Prythian, if it reached Beron's court---

He wasn't sure he could survive the loss this time around.   
 

**Tool**

She was a weapon, a tool for destruction. Cauldron save those who ever came across Nesta Archeron's path.

 

**Blanket**

"Tamlin took me to a picnic, too, once," said Feyre absently. She felt Rhys's body stiffen beside her.

"And?" he asked, his voice arched and tinged with the slightest bit of annoyance. Feyre chuckled and sent a wave of love through the bond. "And it doesn't compare to this," she said, leaning up and pressing a kiss to her mates lips. Above them, the stars of Velaris shone like jewels.

It was so, so good to be home.

 

**Fancy**

  
Rhys was ripping them off with his teeth.

"I just bought those!" she said between pants, "Rhys I just---"  


**Dash**  


He didn't spare them another glance. His High Lady--- with another High Lord. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to tear Tamlin's hands off of Feyre. But he didn't. He winnowed without looking back. It was all he could do not to break apart.

 

**Away**

  
Elain could remember their old life , but just barely. Little snippets here and there, scattered memories. It feels like a dream, like she's been spirited away.

 

**Syndication**

"Well that settles it," said Nesta, setting down the measuring stick after five attempts to measure and re-measure these Illyrian pricks' wings.

"I'll make sure every one in Prythian knows who has the biggest wingspan and it isn't you, Cassian." 

Cass scowled at her icy grin.

 

 

**Champagne**

"Az? What is this for?"

She took the flute from Az and watched him as he poured one for himself. "What are we celebrating?" she asked again, when he didn't answer.

Her Shadowsinger merely shrugged, ""Just because," he said, a small, content smile on his lips.  
 

**Note**

Cassian sent Nesta little notes, just like Rhys sent notes to Feyre. The only difference was Nesta kept burning them.  
 

 **Physical**  


Nesta threw a punch and hit Cass square on the nose. 

"That was for not showing up last night!" she said, stomping away from Cassian, who was trying to laugh while blood dribbled from his face.

 

**Frozen**

She could thaw his heart or break it. Either way, Azriel knew he was done for. 

 

**Stumble(d)**

"Do mating bonds," Elain cleared her throat and tried again, a blush furiously spreading on her cheeks, "Do mating bonds always feel this---intense?"

Feyre merely shrugged, all High Lady.

"Well I don't know if I remember correctly," she said, risking a glance at Rhys, "But I'm certain I've heard a High Lord of Prythian _stumble_ when his own mating bond clicked into place."

**Dull**

  
Az was made of sharp edges. Her warm brown eyes soothed them.

  **Hunt**  


 

**Gibberish**

  
"Lady Elain! You're here! At the spring court! Well, this is quite--I was--"

  
Elain gives him a small smile. "It's nice to see you too, Lucien."

 

**Camp**

  
She was the worst thing to come to the camps, they whispered, the worst thing next to their bastard general. The thought always made Nesta smile in satisfaction.

 

**Weak(ness)**

It wasn't the lust for power. Or wealth. Or even freedom. The weakness of the High Lord was the sight of a painter's hands, drawing flowers upon a table.

 

**Bargain**

"Have you never learned anything from making bargains with me, Feyre darling? " the High Lord of Night whispered, kissing a spot beneath Feyre's ear. She couldn't remember making a coherent response.

 

**Alcohol**

"Mmmm, you smell so _so_ good, Lucien."

  
Elain decided to settle her face in the crook of his neck, the slur in her voice causing goosebumps to rise in his flesh. Lucien didn't know if he should laugh or be worried.

"I bet you taste so much better," she purrs and flicks her tongue against his pulse before passing out in his arms.

Lucien swallowed hard.

 

 **Wind**  
 

"Cassian I swear if you ever---"

Nesta's screams got lost in the wind as Cassian launched them up into the waiting sky, laughing for all he's worth.

 

**Temptation**

  
Sometimes, she doesn't sound like herself. Lucien does it to her sometimes. He's a promise. A temptation of freedom and everything else.

 

**Eighteen**

  
That winter had been so, so cold. Feyre had tried to rub some warmth unto her fingers but they still shivered. All around her the forest was white and dead, and the promise of the long solstice night ran her throat dry.

"Happy birthday, Feyre," she whispered to herself.

 

**Bottle**

  
They'd been dancing and drinking and Nesta was laughing for the first time Cassian could remember. Cauldron, she was a sight. They were laughing so loud it was all they could do not to fall against each other.

"Youre beautiful, sweetheart," the words tumbled out of his mouth. Nesta stilled in his arms. There was a beat, and Cassian was sure he'd ruined the evening, said the wrong thing. But then, Nesta smiled a secret smile.

"You're not so bad looking yourself, bastard."

 

**Rhythm**

Slow. Steady. A step. Two steps. Lucien was acutely aware of his hand on her waist. The hitch of her breath as he draws her imperceptibly closer. The warmth of her cheek on his shoulder. The music played, slow and far away and Lucien---Lucien never felt more alive.


End file.
